


Tales of Miraland

by Twilight_Joltik



Category: Love Nikki Dress Up Queen
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Joltik/pseuds/Twilight_Joltik
Summary: A collection of drabbles based on outfits, either existing sets or ones cobbled together.





	1. Pigeon Coronation

**Author's Note:**

> I started doing this for fun with some friends and really liked what I churned out. I think this could be a fun writing exercise and I wanted to share my results. I hope you all enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfit this is based off can be seen here:  
> http://i.imgur.com/ejckCwp.jpg

The young queen stood in front of the throne that now belonged to her. The confetti all around her, the cheering crowd, everything said this should be a celebration. But, she didn’t make any attempts to hide the tears gushing down her face. Her mourning was nothing shameful, even if her people didn’t know the full extent of it.

Big Brother was always the monarch between them. He was born to lead, and beloved by his people. She was more confident that he would be a wonderful king than she was in anything else in the entire universe. And he was, for the scarce few months he’d been on the throne. He’d managed to mend relations with the Cloud Empire after decades of bitterness following their lengthy war, managed to get the court to finally legalize marriage between couples of the same sex, and almost sealed the deal on a trade partnership with the Apple Federation. She would have to finish that last one, and hopefully her brother’s death would only lend credence to her case for maintaining his proposition.

As she stood in front of the people she would now rule, she couldn’t make herself smile. These weren’t her people, they were her brother’s, and they always would be. She’d always be known as the Queen Who Never Should Have Been, and she had no quarrel with that. Her brother died a martyr, assassinated for his cause. It was her honor to live on in his name to continue that.

Her gown was an elaborate gift from the Cloud Empire sent with a note expressing their deepest regrets at the king’s untimely demise, but she knew it meant far more than that. It was a promise that they would support her as they did her brother- a promise that meant a world of good for her future as a leader. If they believed in her, other nations would likely follow suit and she’d be taken seriously.

The bracelet Marcie gave her peeked out from under the layers of brocade. She was still shocked it hadn’t been noticed by any of the officials, but grateful. It gave her comfort, even now. Perhaps in another time, when she wasn’t surely expected to seal the new alliance with Cloud and marry their prince, Marcie could have been an even greater comfort to her.

The thought made her tears pour out in greater numbers. Still, she had no shame in her sorrow. If nothing else, the cheers of the citizens would drown out her own sobs.


	2. Flower Maid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this outfit here; my entry to the latest contest that I had just a bit too much fun coming with an explanation for. http://i.imgur.com/Jgd3ZsH.jpg

“Good morning, Rosalind!”, greeted the fruit stand’s owner.

The girl, though Rosalind was not her name, looked over and smiled sweetly as she set up her own stand. “Good morning, sir. It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

As she laid out her flowers, she made idle conversation with the fruit stand owner. She didn’t know his name, but she was a bit too ashamed of that fact to ask for it. He was always kind to her, and had even bought a few bouquets from her for his wife and a flower crown for his daughter, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember his name.

Perhaps that was for the best, though, she thought grimly as she looked down the street, at the bank that shone brighter than every other building and loomed over like the reaper it was. If she knew him by name, she’d be able to tell if her father was ever talking about any financial trouble he’d gotten into. Everyone in this town was in some sort of financial jeopardy, but no one could quite tell how bad it was until the bank came for their assets with a grim tone and hidden smirk.

Of course, she suspected her father was less honest about everyone’s states than he let on. He claimed to be nothing but honest, but she could tell that wasn’t the case. For one, the days he came home boasting about his latest foreclosure almost always followed the nights her brother gambled too much away and came home drunk and with nothing but the clothes on his back. She pretended not to notice, but she’d known her father was full of it since she was young and noticed the man he would complain about so much got his farm taken away the day after father came home drunk and with a swollen up cheek.

The older she got, the sicker she got of his garbage, and the more willing she was to do something. So, when she heard her father mention over dinner how the orphanage had taken out one loan too many, she finally worked up the courage to act. The next morning, before anyone else was awake, she’d left a note on her bed claiming she’d gone to see the son of the sheriff, who her father had been a bit too eager for her to get to know, and went to the garden with an empty basket and a pair of shears.

It had hurt a bit to cut off the flowers she’d been so proud of helping grow so beautifully. Her grandmother, bless her soul, had never smiled so widely as she did the day little Annabel had asked her how she made the roses grow so pretty, and after her passing it’d become her job to take care of them. But, her grandmother would have been proud of her for this, she was sure. It was a worthy sacrifice. She set up a little market stand and sold only a few flowers, but she put the profits in an envelope and slipped it in the mailbox of the orphanage with “to help” written on it.

She was at a loss with what to do with the remaining flowers at first. It would feel wrong to sell a product that was no longer fresh, but wasting them would be just as wrong. In the end, she settled for weaving them into a crown and selling that the next time she went to market.

That turned into a pretty effective business model. The flowers would sell better as she gained a customer base, but she’d usually have at least a few leftover. She’d almost always sell the flower crown, and she couldn’t help but smile when she saw people wearing them around town or hanging them on their doors. The garden had plenty of flowers to sell, and she made sure to keep growing more and more. The orphanage soon had enough extra money to keep foreclosure at bay and even provide better for the children.

She wished more than anything that she could do more. She wished she could sell all the clothes her mother wouldn’t let her wear anymore for being out of fashion and the jewelry her grandmother had left her that she never wore and the books she didn’t read anymore, but she knew that would only garner suspicion. She wished she could tell the orphanage who it was that was being so diligent in providing for them, but she feared even with her false name it’d somehow be traced back to her.

If her father ever found out, she knew she’d never be allowed to set foot in the garden again. Maybe even not outside the house again. The thought sickened her, to leave the flowers to wilt. Her grandmother would be so disappointed in her, and she knew she’d be miserable without her one actually enjoyable hobby. And worse, he’d probably shut the orphanage down just for the hell of it, and all those kids would be left to fend for themselves and beg.

She would lay awake at night sometimes, terrified that she’d introduced herself with the wrong name to a customer or left a flower crown on the table in the library. Terrified everything she built would come apart. But, she smiled all the same when an awkward guy would come up to her table and ask to buy a red rose. Seeing that same guy wave at her a few days later as he strode through town hand in hand with a smiling girl, that was what she lived for.


End file.
